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 for the ravenous wolves which infest that part of the country; and even now, perhaps, his bones, unburied, lie bleaching in the mountain blast. Oh! never may my eyes be closed till they have seen vengeance fall upon the head of his murderer! accursed may he be! may his days be without comfort—his nights without repose!—and may his pangs, if possible, be more intolerable than those he has inflicted on my soul!"

"Perhaps (cried Madeline, in a faint voice), he does not live."

"Suggest not such an idea again (exclaimed the Marquis, with a kind of savage fury in his countenance); the hope of yet bringing him to punishment has hitherto, more than any other circumstance, supported me amidst my sufferings; to relinquish that hope, would be to relinquish almost all that could console me.—Still then will I retain it; still then will I trust, O God! that some heaven-directed hand shall point out the murderer of my son."